


Covalent Bond

by rosepetalrichie



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, M/M, Porn Without Plot, a lovable one, chemistry is HOT, just pure smut, richie is an asshole, stan riding richie, they're in love bitches, things get soft at the end, this is also my first smut fic so go easy on me lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalrichie/pseuds/rosepetalrichie
Summary: Richie helps Stan study. Things get hotter than a Bunsen burner.





	Covalent Bond

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, apologies for that awful chemistry joke in the summary.  
> Second of all, I'm actually sort of proud of this? For someone who has only roleplayed one (1) smut scene, I don't think this is awful. I also finished it in like three hours, so, yay me!!  
> Mostly for my pals R & Moe who encouraged me to write this based off of some headcanons that I spewed in the discord that I guess were good, lmao.

Stan looked down at the bright blue flashcards that Richie held, as well as the dark curls splayed out across the pillow and the way his NYU hoodie scrunched under Stan’s grip. He let out a small whine as he lowered his hips down onto Richie’s.

“Group 17 of the periodic table?”

“Halogens.” Stan’s voice came out breathy, and he sunk down onto Richie’s dick again, with more force this time. Richie was reading off the words on the cards with much more articulation than Stan did with his answers.

“Group 18?” 

“Noble gases. Richie, this is - fuck - easy.” Stan’s hands pressed to Richie’s abdomen to steady himself as he picked up the pace.

Richie lifted his gaze from the cards and up to Stan. He had one of those shit-eating smirks that Stan both adored and loathed because it meant that Richie was definitely not going to be speeding things up any time soon, and as much as Richie liked to play dumb and act oblivious during sex, he always knew damn well what he was doing to Stan, and wouldn’t ever do anything that he knew Stan wanted until he got Stan pleading for it. And Stan would tell himself every single time that he wouldn’t fall into that trap of needing to beg for what he wanted, but Richie knew exactly what got Stan to break. Stan hated it and yet thought it was the hottest thing he had ever encountered.

Richie threw another card to the side, looked at the next one for a moment, before looking back to Stan’s eyes with that stupid smile. “Binary ionic compound?”

Stan scoffed. “Contains a cation and an anion.” His confidence was obviously raised, with how convinced he sounded with his answer, and with the way he was riding Richie with impeccably straight posture and that little cocky glint in his eyes when he knew he was right.

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Which happens when…?”

Fuck. Stan knew this, he had just gone over it yesterday, but with how focused he was on the way Richie’s dick felt inside of him, how much he wanted to touch himself, have Richie touch him instead of holding those stupid flashcards, or maybe how much he wanted Richie to dirty talk in that raspy voice he always used and Stan always liked, instead of this boring chemistry bullshit. He didn’t care about finals anymore, he just wanted to finish-

He felt Richie’s hand grip his hip, and Stan jerked lightly underneath the touch. “Finish the answer, darling.”

Stan whimpered, and his fingers tightened around the hoodie’s fabric. “It… it happens w-when- _fuck!_ ” Richie had grabbed Stan’s hips with both of his hands, now, and forced Stan down so that their skin was flush, and Stan brought his hand to his mouth, biting down on the edge of his palm.

“Do you not remember?”

Stan swiftly shook his head. “No, no, I just- I need to think, and just give me a second, please-”

“Is this too distracting?” Richie kneaded the skin above Stan’s hips, still holding him in place.

“No, just- please I need to think, I know the answer-”

Richie chuckled. “Is poor Stanley not able to handle my dick?”

Stan rolled his eyes, but his chest still rose and fell from his panting. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You still haven’t finished the answer.” Richie’s smirk grew, and he gripped Stan harder when he felt Stan begin to squirm. “Binary ionic compound.”

Stan’s toes curled and he squeezed his eyes shut while he thought for a moment. “Metal... loses electrons. Nonmetal gains.”

Richie nodded, pulled his hands from Stan’s hips and tossed the card off to the side, still holding the eye contact with Stan. “Good boy.” A barely audible whine came from Stan and he quickly went back to eagerly bouncing on Richie. He felt himself getting closer by the second.

“Next one: oxidation-reduction reaction.”

“Transfer of electrons-” Stan’s sentence broke when Richie thrust his hips up into Stan and Stan let out the loudest moan Richie had heard since they had started. 

“You were saying?” Richie acted like he had done nothing.

Stan shook his head and desperately pushed himself back on Richie’s dick, savoring the subtle brush against his prostate, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, but he wasn’t about to treat Richie to him begging. Not after Richie had just been an asshat this whole time.

 _“Richie, please…”_ Stan breathed, keeping his eyes closed.

“What, baby?”

“I don’t want to study anymore, I just- I want-”

Richie threw the entire stack of flashcards onto the floor, and Stan would’ve thrown a fit about them flying everywhere if it wasn’t for the fact that he had an ass full of cock.

“Want what?” Richie’s hands were on Stan’s thighs, now, and he felt them lightly trembling.

“Please, please, Richie I don’t want-”

“You don’t want to get a bad grade, babe.”

Stan’s eyes flew open and Richie saw that they were glossy with tears of frustration. “To hell with that fucking test, I’m tired of this teasing bullshit and-and-and, fuck, Richie…” His hand was inching towards his own erection, and he cried out when Richie grabbed his wrist and pulled it away.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Stan looked at Richie with a pleading look, and his hips bucked up, eager for friction.

“Tell me.”

“Shit, shit-” Stan pulled Richie’s head down so their faces were close, his fingers knotting into the other’s hair. “ _Fuck me,_ please, Rich, please fuck me, I want you t-to fuck me good, like you always do, I need you to do that again, _please…_ ”

Richie licked his lips and took in how needy Stan sounded and looked, feeling a dose of satisfaction.

“Anything for you, baby boy.” He breathed into Stan’s ear, nipping at his neck.

It wasn’t long before Stan’s legs were looped around Richie’s waist, the sound of skin slapping and a mixture of loud whines and low grunts filling the room, Stan whining out Richie’s name every time Richie ruts into him.

“You sound so pretty, moaning my name like that. Sounding so pretty for me to hear.” Richie breathed onto Stan’s neck, over the gradually appearing bruise Richie left just under his jaw. The hoodie had been ditched a few minutes prior, and Stan’s fingernails clawed into pale, freckled skin.

“Richie… Richie, fuck…”

“You gonna come for me?”

Stan responded with a muffled whimper, and his hands moved back to Richie’s hair.

“Gonna show me how good you are?” Richie’s hand moved down and he wrapped his fingers around Stan’s dick. “How good you are for me?”

Stan was about to reply with another call of Richie’s name, but instead responded with one final, loud moan, his back arching into Richie’s frame as he comes, his muscles tensing. Richie follows shortly behind, groaning a low _‘fuck’_ into Stan’s ear.

They’re left heavily breathing, and Richie flops himself down next to Stan, turning his head to the side to watch as Stan comes down from his high. When Stan opens his eyes again, he looks back at Richie, softly smiling.

“Much better than studying, huh?” Richie quietly asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

Stan nods in response, smiling growing, and he stretches out his arms, making a small ‘mmph’ noise as he attempts to release the tension from his shoulders.

Richie leans over the edge of the bed to grab his shirt, and Stan, still in a semi-lethargic state, doesn’t think much of it until he releases the mess he made all over Richie’s stomach.

“Nooo, Richie, don’t do that- oh my _goddd…_ ” Stan groans as he watches Richie wipe the cum off of himself with a black shirt. Stan puts his hands over his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re such an idiot, Richie.”

Richie throws the shirt somewhere, and snuggles back up to Stan, wrapping his arms around Stan’s waist and pulling his chest to his own. He grins. “Your idiot?”

Stan brushes a thick curl from Richie’s sweat-slicked forehead and nods with a giggle. “Yes, Rich. My idiot.” He buries himself into Richie’s chest, breathing in a faint scent of dollar store cologne that only Richie could pull off, and sighs in comfort when he feels Richie’s face bury into his hair and twists a curl at the nape of his neck around his finger.

“I love you, Stan.”

“I love you too, dumbass.”


End file.
